


Little Wonders

by letterfromathief



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, F/M, Family, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterfromathief/pseuds/letterfromathief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry can’t sleep. That’s how it starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> swanstan asked for a Christmas Captain Swan Cobra fic with a movie marathon & I have obliged…months later.

Henry can’t sleep.

He’s nearly 13 years old and if he was a normal boy in a normal family, he’d long ago have stopped believing in Santa and been asleep so Emma could put the presents under the tree and sleep herself before the long Christmas Day festivities to follow.

 

> _Well,_ even when he was a normal boy in a semi-normal family for that brief year in New York where Emma’s countless hours of ‘what-if?’ played out like reality instead of an oft wished-upon fantasy – even then, Henry had never been one to sleep early when Santa Claus was coming. Emma supposes she should be used to it by now, but well, she’ll never get used to Henry, to having him by her side with his bright eyed smiles and endless little wonders.

Instead, Henry has enlisted Killian in his scheme to secure a meeting with the big man in red, and he’s far too excited to even contemplate sleeping.

That’s how she ends up inviting her boyfriend over at 1AM for what might be the strangest booty call ever.

 

> She’s totally gonna punish Henry for his teasing joke of “Well, Santa _is_ the booty,” as soon as it’s not Christmas, Killian isn’t glancing between Henry’s mischievously smug grin and Emma’s still burning face, and she can stop thinking that, well, it _was_ clever.

For now, however, she sends Killian off to the kitchen for cocoa duty, and he goes, though not without quipping about that restaurant she definitely did _not_ hire him to work in and wasn’t paying him for.

 

> If Henry wasn’t there she might’ve shot back a line about “What kind of payment did you have in mind?”
> 
> Face flaming again, Emma shoots Henry a look, even though he has already turned away towards the TV to find “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” on the DVR. Yeah, she’s totally gonna get him for that.

Killian walks up behind her, having already turned on the water and prepared the cocoa. Peering over her shoulder at the list of Christmas movies on the DVR, Killian says, “Research, lad? Smart. Knowing your quarry’s weaknesses can mean the difference between a simple capture and a difficult battle.”

As he speaks, his hand moves over the small of her back, massing in gentle circles. It’s nice. Comforting. Emma allows herself to settle into the touch and enjoy it for a moment before she pulls away and declares, “We’re not capturing Santa Claus.”

Henry turns, too, to nod his head enthusiastically in agreement.

“Mom’s right. It’s barely even a kidnapping. Just a meeting.”

Emma’s protests fall on deaf ears as Killian re-enters the kitchen at the whistling of the kettle, calling back, “So, it’s a parley, then? Well, that makes things much easier.”

Emma shakes her head, hand pressed to her forehead. When she looks back up, Henry is grinning at her over his shoulder and the corners of her mouth draw up into a helpless smile. Crossing the room to join Henry on the couch, she says, “We have no proof he even exists, you know.”

She settles down beside him on the couch, legs folded beneath her so she can lean her shoulders against his broadening ones. He turns to look at her, and she notes the sharpening of his jaw, the definition in his cheeks. _Kid, you’re getting old_ , she thinks with fondness.

Henry smiles. “I don’t need proof. Captain Hook’s in your kitchen, mom.”

Emma reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Good point. You’d make a good lawyer. Goodness knows, 90% of this town needs one.”

Henry laughs. “Oh, come on, mom. I think Granny and her crossbow cover that.”

Emma chokes on a laugh and dissolves into giggles echoed by Henry’s deepening laugh.

“What’s this now?”

Emma and Henry turn in unison to look up at Killian. Brow wrinkled and mouth turned up in a confused smile, he holds out their cocoa cups. Emma takes the one hanging precariously off his hook, while Henry reaches for the one balancing in the crook of his arm. Relieved of his burdens, Killian walks around to fill the space Emma left for him on the couch. He leaves his own cup of cocoa on the end table and lopes his arm around Emma’s shoulder.

“So, are we doing research or what?”

“I didn’t think you’d be so eager for another movie marathon,” Emma teases.

She leaves the “after watching all those Peter Pan movies” unsaid, but Killian’s glare and Henry’s muffled laugh tell her he understood.

“I quite enjoyed our last ‘movie marathon,’ _despite_ the subject matter. And I’m up for a little reconnaissance this evening that doesn’t involve us chasing someone through the forest or across worlds. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Well, it’s not quite reconnaissance. I’ve done all my research. I’ve seen almost every Santa movie.”

Emma nods her head furiously in agreement. Those memories may have been fake, but she still remembers how the bargain bins of Christmas DVDs after the Holiday season ended were some of Henry’s favorite ‘puppy-eyes-and-trembling-lip’ purchases.

“So, it’s more like a way to pass the time until he arrives.”

“Isn’t he only supposed to come after you fall asleep?” The hint is there, but Emma doesn’t quite mind staying up now, not with Henry and Killian beside her and the warm cup of cocoa in her hands.

“Yeah, and you’re also supposed to leave cookies and milk out for him.” Henry fixes her with a look. “ _Mom_ , we’ve been through this. The stories aren’t always the truth.”

Killian coughs pointedly behind her. Emma would throw her hands up in the air, except she _is_ holding a cup of hot chocolate so she just shrugs and says, “Maybe one day it’ll sink in.”

Killian rubs her shoulder with the hand that’s wrapped around it and says, “So, what _is_ the plan? I’m sure you needed me for a reason.”

Henry takes this moment to press play on “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” It isn’t until the rather creepy clay puppet dude starts reading out the kid’s questions that Henry finally replies, “Mom and I like your company. That’s the reason.”

Killian doesn’t say anything for a moment. He is still beside her for long enough that the first notes of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” begin to play before he says, “Thanks, lad. I quite enjoy your company, too.”

Emma reaches beside her to rest her hand on his leg. A moment later, he shifts his arm from around her shoulders and clasps her hand in his.

The movie marathon goes by in a dreamy haze of cinnamon dusted cocoa, excited and confused questions from Killian, Henry’s _too_ clever responses, and Emma’s cemented feelings about the awfulness of Christmas movie animation.

It’s almost 4AM when Emma puts her foot down and sends Henry off to bed, though he doesn’t take much convincing with his eyes drooping so much he can barely see his way to his room. Emma makes sure he actually makes it into bed – and presses a kiss to his forehead as he mumbles that he’ll just have to wait for next year to catch Santa – before going to herd Killian to bed as well.

She returns to find him leaning against the kitchen counter, having washed the dishes and put everything away. The lights are off and so, the only light is from the windows where she looks out to see that it’s snowing, thick, heavy snowflakes that swirl in the breeze.

Emma walks over to him, smiling at how his eyes are just as heavy-lidded as Henry’s. He barely even moves when she touches his cheek, although he does try to kiss her back when she presses her lips to his.

“Go on,” she says, guiding him gently towards her room. “I’ll join you in a few minutes. I just have to get the presents together.”

Killian looks like he might protest, but yawns instead. Smiling wryly, he whispers, “Don’t be long. Merry Christmas, Emma.”

“Merry Christmas, Killian,” she whispers back. She watches him disappear into the room and then drags her own tired body into the study’s bathroom, where she hid Henry’s gifts in the cabinet. It takes her two trips to gather everything and settle it beneath the tree.

On the third trip, just to make sure she didn’t miss anything, she stops, just on her way to her bedroom. Frowning, she walks over to the tree, where, in between two of Henry’s gifts, lies a gift she’s never seen before and definitely didn’t put there. She didn’t hear anyone leave their rooms, and in fact, Henry is starting to snore lightly already, so she picks it up with trepidation.

It’s addressed to her, in neither Henry nor Hook’s handwriting. Her heartbeat pounds in her chest as she decides whether to open it or not – hell, it could be the start of a whole new villain’s plot in this little elf-print gift wrapped package, and she doesn’t need that right now or ever again.

Despite that overwhelming possibility, her curiosity wins out. As quietly and slowly as possible, she peels back the gift wrap to find a hand-written note and a framed photo of her and Henry, during one of their fake-memory Christmases in New York. There was no one else there but them, no possible way anyone could’ve taken this photo and despite the loveliness of it, the way the Emma and Henry in the photo are looking at each other like this is the happiest they could ever be, her stomach feels knotted as she opens the note.

 

> _Emma,_
> 
> _You and Henry were both right. Not all the stories are true, and yet, some are. We may not have been able to meet, however, I was happy to honor Henry’s request._

The note isn’t signed, but Emma knows the warmth of good magic like she knows the lines of Henry’s smile. _Henry’s request?_   The question stumps her for a second before the light of the rising sun glints off the frame. Grinning to herself and with tears prickling at her eyes as she looks at the picture again, she tucks the letter into her pajama pockets and tip-toes into Henry’s room to place the frame on his desk.

Killian is fast asleep when she finally pulls herself underneath the covers. He awakens at her movement and when he wraps his arm around her waist, she snuggles into the embrace. With a smile on her face and his warmth encasing her, she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.


End file.
